


immortal love

by vonseal



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fluff, Happy Ending, Historical References, Immortality, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: dongmin's immortal. bin is not.and yet they fall in love.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin, Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow seal another immortality fic. i cant do anything original. i copy my own ideas. wow.
> 
> AND IM LATE ON ANOTHER BDAY FIC. i suck i rlly do. but please please please give a belated happy birthday to [@AstrosSunflower](https://twitter.com/AstrosSunflower)!!! im terrible at binu so im afraid im not doing your OTP justice, but i hope you like it anyway!!!

Dongmin hurried into the museum building, cursing himself for arriving so late. How on earth had he allowed himself to be lost in the whims of stupid, mindless television? He had no one to blame but Myungjun, probably, for dropping off that accursed laptop at Dongmin’s place and then forcing him to sit through several episodes of variety shows.

He had a lecture prepared for his best friend, and he was quite ready to give him the talk-down of the century.

Unfortunately, when he found Myungjun in the lobby of the museum, all that he could do was snap out, “It was the laptop,” which was the start of his prepared lecture. Before he could get any further, Myungjun was quick to interrupt.

“Ooh, look at this, Jinwoo! Mr.  _ I’m Always On Time _ is  _ late _ to our museum date. Isn’t  _ this _ a shock? How much do you owe me? Or do I owe you? I forgot, but let’s let bygones be bygones and instead mock Dongmin for arriving so late. I mean, seriously, Dongmin, you’re going to blame a  _ laptop _ for your own stupid mistake? They have clocks on them, you know. And even if you didn’t know that,  _ I _ know that you have a watch, so there’s no reason to be late to our schedule.”

Dongmin glared at him but otherwise chose to give no response. Instead, he turned to the man standing by Myungjun’s side and asked, “Are you the new butler?”

“Butler?” Myungjun laughed and patted the shoulder of the man. “Such outdated terms, Dongmin! I prefer to call him my servant. Or helper. Maybe an assistant. Jinwoo, which one do you like best?”

The man, Jinwoo, shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, I really don’t care. You’re going to be paying me regardless, aren’t you?”

Myungjun got a new  _ assistant _ every other decade, it seemed. He didn’t like to keep with the same one for too long. According to him, they got old and decrepit. In all honesty, his servants still looked good in their mid-thirties, but Myungjun was forever twenty-six. 

What Myungjun’s immortality had to do with his servants, Dongmin did not know. The servants were aware of Myungjun’s immortality, after all. They were briefed on it upon their employment, and also threatened to death if they were to tell anyone.

Not that anyone would believe them, anyway. Public opinion was that immortality was fake. It was something of legends. There was no such thing as an immortal race living among the populace.

Dongmin aways scoffed when he heard of such a thing, but he couldn’t judge the people  _ too _ harshly. After all, he hadn’t believed in immortality for the first twenty-three years of his own life. Then he was shot by a scorned lover and pronounced dead. He later awoke, frightening a few medical staff, and was considered to be a living miracle until Myungjun found him.

He still remembered their meeting, clear as day. Myungjun had entered the room with much gusto and had grinned widely at Dongmin’s confusion.

“I heard  _ someone _ woke up from the dead,” he said in lieu of any greeting. “And I wanted to see my immortal brother.”

Through some careful negotiation and a few well-thought lies, Myungjun had then been able to pull Dongmin from the arms of curious doctors and had taken him to his own house, where he then explained their situation.

Dongmin was born mortal, as is everyone. Inside of him, however, lay the blessing (or curse, depending on one’s outlook) of immortality. It was only triggered upon his first death, but from then on, nothing could ever again cause him fatal harm.

It was a lot to take in. Dongmin’s family had not believed him, and they chose instead to listen to the doctors who proclaimed his sudden recovery a miracle. Dongmin found himself believing as such and had tried his best to ignore Myungjun, who kept popping up at inopportune moments.

But then it became a difficult truth to deny. Dongmin’s siblings grew older. The young children in town became adults. The elderly died off. And through it all, Dongmin didn’t age a bit.

He had to accept what Myungjun always told him: he was immortal.

Myungjun had been around for a very long time. He liked to regale Dongmin with firsthand accounts of historical events. 

“You, too, will experience such things,” he would always say after each story. “Soon the present will become writings in history books. Soon your past will become the stuff of legends. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

Myungjun liked his immortality. He found it fun and freeing. Dongmin, though, was far younger, having been born in the 1800’s, and he longed to have grown old with his family.

At least he  _ had _ Myungjun. Myungjun apparently had nobody, save for the ever-revolving door of young, attractive butlers.

Jinwoo seemed a little less attractive than the last butler, though. Plus, he was much shorter. Dongmin could have sworn that Myungjun liked his men tall and elegant. Jinwoo, though, wore torn jeans and a simple t-shirt. His hair was bleached. He had earrings. 

“You’ve gone with a different style?” Dongmin questioned, gesturing to Jinwoo.

Myungjun nodded his head proudly. “I thought I needed to shake things up a bit,” he replied. “So I found a  _ cool _ butler this time. He was a dancer once, you know?”

“A dancer?” Dongmin appraised Jinwoo and said, “You don’t look like a dancer.”

“I did hip-hop and stuff,” Jinwoo responded, seeming rather bored with the conversation. “We should hurry. Isn’t our tour supposed to start in a few minutes?”

Myungjun giggled and patted Jinwoo’s head. “He’s cute, isn’t he, Dongmin? Ah, Jinwoo, I’ll be sorry to toss you aside when I’m all done with you. But humans just get gross as they age. Wrinkles?” He grimaced. “I won’t stand for it. No wrinkles in my household!”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes, which was the most disrespect Dongmin had seen from any of Myungjun’s assistants.

Myungjun seemed quite fond of such behavior. “Look at him, Dongmin! I’ll have to train him, for certain.” 

Dongmin said nothing to that. He was never certain how to respond when Myungjun started treating his butlers and servants as pets. But, honestly, Myungjun treated  _ all _ humans as pets. He only recognized slight differences between humans and animals. Immortal beings, he always claimed, were so far above humans that it never felt right for him to treat humans  _ as _ humans.

It was a belief Dongmin did not share. Dongmin was born closer to the present and thus felt closer to humans than he did to Myungjun. Humans were innovative and kind. Humans were horrible and interesting. Dongmin always considered himself human -- he was born to human parents and had human siblings, before they all passed away. He had cried at each and every funeral, mourning his curse of immortality. Because of his eternal youth, he had run away from home to live and learn with Myungjun. He could only see his parents and siblings from afar, and though Myungjun tried to dissuade him from ever making contact with them, sometimes Dongmin would leave baskets of food, or notes of love. He missed his family, even with the passing of time.

Clearly Myungjun’s years spent traveling the world had not brought him any closer to experiencing human love. There was once Myungjun had confessed to loving someone a long, long time ago, back in the 1200’s, but these days, his love seemed to be far more superficial.

Still, Dongmin could love, and Dongmin loved Myungjun as a brother. 

That didn’t stop him from offering Jinwoo a small smile and apologizing for his friend’s ridiculous attitude.

“Don’t listen to Myungjun,” Dongmin suggested. “He’s rather rude.”

Myungjun snorted. “I’m  _ rather  _ rude. Do you hear the snootiness in his voice, Jinwoo?”

“It sounds familiar,” Jinwoo mentioned, and shot Myungjun a pointed look.

Rather than anger, as Dongmin expected Myungjun to, Myungjun merely laughed and hooked arms with Jinwoo. “A precious specimen, really -- isn’t he precious, Dongmin? I want to keep him forever, but then I fear he might wrinkle and I’ll not keep a wrinkly man in  _ my _ presence.” 

“The tour is starting,” Jinwoo reminded the both of them, and, still giggling, Myungjun led the two men to the guide. Already other people had gathered around the woman, and she had begun to answer questions from one curious guest. Dongmin listened into the conversation, doing his best to tune out Myungjun’s cooing and Jinwoo’s groans.

The conversation seemed to be regarding an author, and Dongmin was quick to recognize a name: Hwang Hyeon. He leaned in closer, putting his fantastic eavesdropping skills to use.

“--and though  _ Ohagimoon _ was merely a draft of his larger work, it is still a cultural property--”

Dongmin sighed. He had to speak up. He could not stay silent, not when the tour guide was making such egregious errors. 

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, and most everyone in the group turned to look at him. Dongmin was quite used to such attention, as he regularly spoke up whenever he heard anything incorrect, and it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

He met the stare of the tour guide and said, “ _ Ohagimoon _ was  _ not _ Hwang Hyeon’s draft. I know many scholars consider it to be, but it was simply an earlier work that he  _ helped _ to write.”

“He helped to write it?” the tour guide repeated. “He  _ did _ write it.”

“He co-wrote it,” Dongmin argued. “In fact, I believe the actual writer had far more input than Hwang did. It’s ridiculous to attribute everything to Hwang, because though he was brilliant and died for a cause, he did not write the entirety of  _ Ohagimoon _ .” He met the stupefied expressions of the other guests and conceded, “He wrote  _ Maecheonyarok _ , which is a wonderful piece of work, but he was inspired to write it by the completion of  _ Ohagimoon _ .”

The tour guide cleared her throat and gathered the attention of the crowd once more. “While our guest has some interesting thoughts,” she announced, “I can assure you that our cultural center is much more knowledgeable on the writings of Hwang Hyeon. Now, let us begin our tour, shall we?” She made sure to glance at Dongmin before walking away and warned, “Please, sir, do not interrupt this tour with--”

“I’m sorry, but did you know Hwang Hyeon?” Dongmin asked, an accusatory tone creeping into his voice. “Surely not, for he died long before you were born. Why, then, do you pretend to know his full history, despite only having small portions of it?”

The tour guide answered him with calm precision. “I am going off of the works of highly respected historians, sir. Now, please do not interrupt again or I will be forced to leave you here.”

Dongmin longed to say more and to really prove to her that she knew absolutely nothing, but Myungjun nudged his back.

“Don’t egg her on,” Myungjun hissed. “There’s apparently some spicy erotica on this tour that we’ll look over, and I’ll be damned if you take away that excitement from me.”

Dongmin sighed and cast a helpless glance toward Jinwoo. Jinwoo was liable to go against Myungjun’s wishes and commands; Jinwoo seemed to still have a brain about him.

Unfortunately, Jinwoo shrugged and whispered, “I like erotica, so I’m with Myungjun on this one.”

“You are both useless,” Dongmin grumbled, and then louder he stated, “I’ll not be going on a tour that perpetuates  _ lies _ . I’ll meet you in the lobby after the tour, Myungjun.” 

He stormed off. Myungjun didn’t try to stop him, but he didn’t expect Myungjun to. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed off in a museum and it wouldn’t be the last.

In fact, that was exactly what Myungjun said after the tour was over and he found Dongmin sulking in the lobby.

“I need to have a scoreboard for this type of daily event,” he mentioned to Jinwoo. “Remind me, Jinnie, to buy a scoreboard, alright? By the end of this decade, I’m wagering that Dongmin will throw a tantrum on at least forty museum tours.”

“Perhaps, then, I’m done going on tours. They seem ridiculous.” He stood up from the bench and asked, “How on earth do you handle it? You were alive in the early 1000’s -- surely they must have gotten many things wrong from your times.”

With a grin, Myungjun replied, “Oh, god, yeah. I used to be like you, early on, when museums first started popping up. But then I got used to the inaccurate information, and now it doesn’t really bother me. Besides, who  _ really _ cares? History changes just like science these days. In a couple hundred years, this time will be looked down upon as backwards and barbaric, and they’ll make up lies about poor Jinwoo here. They’ll probably say he was nothing but a bastard child -- which is true, actually, Jinwoo’s dad had an affair, and Jinwoo’s mom is the mistress.”

Dongmin glanced at poor Jinwoo, who seemed rather unaffected by Myungjun’s mockery. “As long as they detail how pronounced my abs are, I’ll be fine with my portrayal.”

“His abs  _ are _ amazing!” Myungjun exclaimed, and he smiled devilishly at Dongmin. “I think I’ve mapped out every bit of Jinwoo with my tongue.”

“Oh, gross.” Dongmin blushed; though he had been around for over a hundred years, he found he was still quite unused to Myungjun’s promiscuity. Of course, such sexual expressions were far more common now than they were in the mid-1800’s, and Dongmin was appalled. He quite missed the more repressive mindset of his own time.

Jinwoo, once again, didn’t seem bothered too much. It was a far cry from Myungjun’s last butler, who always appeared embarrassed with his sinful activities. Jinwoo seemed proud, in fact, and tried his best to hide a smile.

“Must you always bed your butlers?” Dongmin murmured, glancing around him to ensure no one was listening to their conversation.

“Don’t be prude,” Myungjun chastised. “It’s completely consensual. And I get bored; there aren’t many immortal beings around these days to have sex with me, and you stopped having sex with me in the 1930’s, for some godforsaken reason, so I’m using my butlers as an outlet.” He hummed lightly, then asked, “Does it make me unclean to have sex with humans, you think?”

It was Jinwoo who answered with a quick, “Disgustingly unclean.”

Myungjun laughed and rolled his eyes. “Ah, well, I’ll just have to shower real good after our nightly romps.”

Jinwoo nodded his head in agreement, then mentioned, “By the way, you promised  _ good _ erotica.”

“Did I?” Myungjun blinked, surprised. When Jinwoo nodded his head once again, Myungjun said, “This  _ was _ rather disappointing. Dongmin, be glad you stormed out when you did. I was so excited, but all we got was a small excerpt from some girl’s diary about her flaming bosom. Do bosoms flame? No. It was ridiculous.”

“What did you expect, then?” Dongmin asked the two of them. “Porn?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Dongmin hated them both.

* * *

It was sometimes difficult to convince the librarians to let him access the physical card catalog. They constantly pointed him to their computer database, which they said was far easier to use and more recently updated. Dongmin would then proceed to explain to them the benefits of a physical system as opposed to a digital one, and he would continue his arguments until one of the librarians would finally get fed up and allow him access.

Fortunately, he became a regular, and they soon found no issue with letting him sort through the card catalog. A few of the younger ones would crack jokes, or else engage in slight mockery, but Dongmin had managed to endear himself to a few of the older librarians, who seemed happy that people as young as him still clung to the traditional ways.

Dongmin failed to mention that he was 164 years of age. He had learned a long time ago that his immortality was best kept a secret.

On that particular rainy day, he stared down at his cards briefly before looking back over at the shelf.

Where was his damn book?

He had been awaiting its arrival for weeks. The librarians mentioned that he would do better to put it on hold, and though he had asked them to do it for him, he wasn’t sure if they had actually followed through. One had mentioned that he ought to just use the computer to place a hold, but Dongmin had sent her such a scathing look that she fell silent.

Really, though, who on earth was reading this book for  _ weeks? _ It was a history book from the 1960’s. It was old and there was next to no information about it online, according to Myungjun. This library was the only one in the area with a copy, and they had only  _ one _ copy, which now seemed to be in the hands of some jackass.

Dongmin gave a huff of frustration and scanned the shelf once more.

He heard someone come up beside him. This someone whispered numbers and letters to himself until he finally gave a small, “a-ha!” and yanked a book from the shelf. In response, other books beside it began to fall like dominos, and Dongmin jerked back just as a handful of books fell off the shelves.

“Oops!” the man exclaimed, hurrying to pick those books back up. Dongmin glared at him, but the man didn’t seem to notice the angry glare. In fact, the man  _ laughed _ at the damage caused and glanced behind him, as if ensuring no librarians had seen his mishap.

When all was clean again, the man looked over at Dongmin. He had messy hair and glasses that seemed too thick and too large for his face. Still, his thin lips pulled back in a secret smile, and he whispered, “You won’t tell, will you?”

“I might,” Dongmin responded coldly. “You’re being too rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” the man snorted. “All I did was grab a book. Not my fault the other books fell.” He didn’t lose his smile. In fact, it seemed to widen more as he peered over at Dongmin’s hand. “What’s that you got?”

“Cards,” Dongmin said, displaying the cards he had taken from the card catalog. “I’m trying to find a book--”

“What are the cards for?” the man asked, interrupting Dongmin in his quest to explain.

Dongmin glowered. Such a rude, unlikeable kid! Someone ought to teach him proper manners. “Like I said, I am trying to find a book. These help.”

The man pursed his lips. “You know,” he started, “I think the computer would help more. Their database is pretty good. Want me to look for you?” He pulled out his smartphone and readied himself. “Come on, what’s the book?”

“I don’t need help,” Dongmin muttered. “These cards help more than enough.”

“They look like they’re from the 80’s,” the man pointed out.

Dongmin sighed. “They are from the 1970’s, actually.”

“Even older!” the man looked rather impressed. “Too old to have any updated information, I bet. Here, just tell me the--”

“ _ Poetry of the Maecheon _ ,” he snapped. 

The man blinked and then stared owlishly at Dongmin for a few seconds. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket of his jeans (and his  _ jeans _ were  _ sagging _ , and Dongmin wept for the human race) before asking, “What’s your name?”

“What does that matter?” Dongmin huffed.

“Because there’s this author I really like who’s mentioned that book and used it as a reference and I think you look like the author. A Cha Eunwoo? Are you Cha Eunwoo?”

There weren’t many who knew of Dongmin’s author persona. He had written and published quite a few books, changing up his alias every dozen or so years so as to not seem too suspicious. Cha Eunwoo was the name he thought up two years ago. He was still a new author under Cha Eunwoo, and his books were about a more niche figure, that of the great Hwang Hyeon. Even those that knew of his works were apt to be in the elderly years, yet here was a boy who was barely a  _ man _ who knew of his work.

His silence must have given him away. The man grinned again. “Oh, god, this is awesome! I’ve been trying to find your contact information for months, you know? You’re difficult to trace, but I  _ really _ needed to ask you some questions for my thesis about Hwang Hyeon. Your book has more information than any other book on the subject, and I need to know your references, since you haven’t cited many.”

Dongmin shook himself out of his shock and asked, “Why are you doing a thesis on Hwang Hyeon?”

“He’s interesting,” the man said. “Plus, I’m apparently related to him. He had a sister, and I’m from that side of the family.”

“Oh,” said Dongmin, and he wondered how much this man really knew about Hwang Hyeon.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not as cool as being related to a great king or anything, but it’s still pretty neat. And there’s not much written about him, so I’ve been struggling to finish my thesis. My advisor told me to write about something else, but I want to know more about Hwang Hyeon, and I figured that if no one else has written much, then maybe I can be one of the first!”

“I...I think I’d be considered more of a first,” Dongmin retorted.

“Of course you are! It’s just that you don’t have references so you aren’t taken seriously in academia.”

Dongmin scoffed. He could go on and on about the problems of modern academia, but he decided he would not, lest he bore this boy with his frustrations and woes.

“Also, if you want, I can let you borrow that book you’re looking for.  _ Poetry of the Maecheon. _ ”

“You have a copy?” Dongmin asked in shock. He had been unable to find any copies anywhere but the library. He feared it would soon become a lost book (though Myungjun had promised to turn it into an ebook, which would be nice if Dongmin knew how to work an ebook). If this man had it, perhaps there was hope for finding it elsewhere.

But the man smiled sheepishly and whispered, “I forgot to turn it back into the library, so I’m just claiming it as my own for a bit longer.”

Dongmin’s eyes widened as he realized he was face-to-face with the real book thief. This man had stolen a rare and precious book from a highly-regarded institution! That was cause for an arrest, or at least a hefty fine! If Dongmin told on him, would the librarians summon the police? Oh, he sure hoped they would.

He stepped away from the shelves, intent on ruining this boy’s life, but the boy grabbed his wrist.

“You’re gonna tell?” the man asked, looking rather confused. Dongmin wasn’t sure why he was confused; he had committed a crime and deserved to be tried as any criminal would be.

“I don’t see why I should not. You’ve stolen a book and--”

“I haven’t stolen it! I just forgot I had it! But now that you mentioned it, I’ll bring it back, alright?”

Dongmin considered his options. While it would be nice to see this book thief taken away in the back of a police car, he supposed it would be far easier to wait for the book to just be returned. It would be less messy that way, at least, and he wouldn’t ruin the lives of one of his only young fans.

So he straightened up and stopped walking. The man released him and still looked rather nervous, so Dongmin sought to calm the situation.

“I was joking,” he stated, cracking a smile of his own. “Please don’t look so concerned.”

“Oh!” the man laughed a bit. “You had me for a second there! I thought you were serious!”

Dongmin had been serious, but the man needn’t know that. He had learned earlier on that it was best to get along with the general populace. Even if Myungjun thought humans were beneath him, at least he still made an attempt to treat them with respect. And Dongmin, who knew humans were his equal, should do better than  _ Myungjun _ .

“I’ll bring it back, though,” the man assured him again. “But if you want to read it, I guess I can just pass it over to you, huh?”

“No, it’s best to do it through the proper channels. Return it to the library, pay whatever fine you’ve certainly amassed, and then I shall check it out.”

The man nodded his head in agreement. “How old are you?” he suddenly asked.

Dongmin sighed. He had been asked such a question before. Though his face and physique were forever youthful, he definitely spoke and acted far older than his physical age. He couldn’t blame this man for being confused. 

“Twenty-three,” he responded.

“Oh.” The man smiled awkwardly. He had a rather endearing smile; it was crooked but it reached his eyes in the most pleasant of ways. “You just sound…” The man didn’t finish that sentence. He let it trail off, but Dongmin could easily piece together his thoughts.

“I sound older than I am,” Dongmin continued for him. “Older, more mature, wiser, more intelligent -- it’s fine. I’ve heard it before. I guess I do speak as if I’m actually from the 1800’s.”

“Yeah! You do!” the man giggled. “But that’s fine. I mean, everyone in college is abrupt and…” Once more, he trailed off, as if unable to find the right words to express himself. “Anyway, it’s refreshing to hear someone else for a change. You’re not that much older than me, though, and you’ve already written a book!”

He had written many books under many names but he wouldn’t say that. Instead, he asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” 

He was born a mere twenty years ago. How young! Dongmin smiled at him, somehow unable to find it in him to be rude any longer. 

“Oh, and my name’s Moon Bin.” Moon Bin bowed lightly, and Dongmin followed in suit. “Sorry, I totally forgot about introducing myself. I was just...I mean, you’re a famous author!”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say  _ famous _ ,” Dongmin contested. “Well-known, though, yes. I am well-known.”

“Sure, whatever you are, it’s just not everyday I run into famous authors at the library.” Bin suddenly seemed to get an idea. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket again, rather nervously this time, and asked, “Is it possible that I can schedule a meeting with you at some point? I’d really like to talk about your book and your references. It’d be helpful for my thesis paper.”

He had never assisted a college student with a paper before. Was he even allowed to do that? He supposed so, and since Bin was using his book, anyway, what difference was there in Bin using an oral history? 

“I’d be happy to help,” he agreed. “When would you like for this meeting to be?”

“Um...I’m not sure. I’ve got classes and work. I can call you, though, if you’d like? Or email. Whichever works.”

Dongmin thought through his options. He had never bothered to get a cell phone. He had one of Myungjun’s old ones, but he had yet to purchase a plan for it. He wasn’t sure how to operate the damn thing, either. All he had was a landline from the late 1900’s. He  _ liked _ his landline. That was the proper way to make calls, and he was unsure about upgrading. But what if Bin tried to  _ text _ him? Landlines did not get texts.

And he could give his work email, but it was rare that he actually checked his own email account. Instead, Myungjun checked it for him on his cell phone from time to time, just to ensure he was updated on his meetings and speaking requests.

However, he did have Myungjun’s laptop now, and so he could learn how to read an email for himself.

“Email,” he answered after a few seconds spent in thought. Bin nodded his head eagerly, and then typed out Dongmin’s email address onto his phone. 

“I’m excited for this, Mr. Lee!” Bin exclaimed.

Dongmin quite liked being called  _ Mister Lee _ . It made him feel rather important, especially to this endearing thief of a college student. 

Before they parted ways, however, Dongmin couldn’t help but remind him, “Bring back the book, or else I  _ will _ contact the authorities.”

“Like the police?” Bin had asked, and Dongmin shrugged his shoulders before turning back to his task on hand.

He struggled to hide his smile.

He had a new friend.

* * *

“This is  _ humiliating _ ,” Dongmin hissed out.

Jinwoo, patting Dongmin’s buttocks, replied, “Sorry, sir, but this is a request from the CEO himself.”

“The CEO of  _ what? _ ” Dongmin snapped. Jinwoo had moved to pat down Dongmin’s legs, and then his hands worked their way back up. “The CEO of being an eyesore on this planet?”

Jinwoo seemed to chuckle a bit at that, but it didn’t stop him from continuing his frisk. Only when he confirmed Dongmin had no weapons on him did he take a step back and nod his head.

“Yes, sir. The CEO of Eyesores. I’m nothing but a meager employee, a wage slave.”

“I know you likely had a part in this, too. You’re too keen to only be following orders.”

“Thank you, sir. I quite like being called  _ keen _ .” 

Dongmin snatched his briefcase from the floor and growled out, “Myungjun is  _ immortal _ . Why the hell would you even bother checking me for weapons? I can’t kill him.”

“You’re quite right, sir. However, you could wound him. He’s scared of pointy objects.”

“Bullshit. Where is he?” Dongmin stepped further into the immaculate penthouse in search of his supposed friend. “When I see him, I’ll frisk him down to see how he likes that.”

And then, just from the other room, he heard Myungjun call out, “Oh, I’d like that very much!”

Dongmin shot Jinwoo a scathing glare before hurrying into the dining room, where Myungjun sat at the large, wooden table, eating a bowl of noodles and looking at something on one of his many high-tech laptops.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Dongmin fussed. He slammed his briefcase onto the table and glowered over at his friend before realizing that Myungjun had been watching some sort of video feed of the entryway.

Which meant he had watched the entire frisking situation live.

“Oh my god!” Dongmin couldn't believe this. Each time he went to Myungjun’s place, something bizarre always seemed to happen, and Myungjun was  _ always _ behind it. This was probably the strangest incident in a while. “Do you get off on this sort of thing, Myungjun? You’re vile!”

Myungjun grinned innocently as he turned the video feed off. “You have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

“It  _ wasn’t _ .”

“Ah, well, it was funny for me and Jinwoo. Besides, you aren’t the only person Jinwoo frisked today.”

“Gross.”

“It started out with good intentions. One of my old butlers has been making some vague threats because he claims I didn’t send him his last paycheck.” Myungjun snorted and twirled his chopsticks around in his noodles. “I did, though. I have plenty of evidence to prove my case. He’s just salty that I think he’s gross and would rather fuck Jinwoo.”

Dongmin sighed and worked on opening his briefcase. “Perhaps if you treated humans less like toys to be later tossed aside and more like equals then they might not threaten you with harm.”

“Perhaps,” Myungjun conceded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why did you bring your briefcase?”

“It has my writing utensils.”

It was Jinwoo, just having walked into the room, who asked, “What are the writing utensils for?”

“He wants to respond to this college kid,” Myungjun responded. Jinwoo took a seat beside Myungjun, who showed off his laptop, which was presumably on the email Bin had sent.

As Jinwoo quietly read over the email, Myungjun scoffed at Dongmin’s fancy pen. “Get with the twenty-first century, Min! Do you  _ really _ think this kid is going to await a physical letter as a response to his question?”

“I have to agree with the CEO of Eyesores,” Jinwoo muttered. “He asked if next week would make for a good appointment date. All you really have to do is say yes or no.”

Dongmin felt himself flush a bit. So what if his ways were more traditional? Besides, all Myungjun had said was, “You got an email from a Moon Bin, come over so you can write up a response.” Sometimes he  _ did _ send out handwritten replies as a way to establish a relationship that was much more personal. And it was only recently that technology changed to the point no one ever wrote letters -- surely he wasn’t the only immortal being who found new technology to be insanely difficult to figure out!

“Then just...just agree to his time,” Dongmin stammered out as he worked on putting his supplies back into his briefcase. “And inform him that he is more than welcome to come to my home, if he would feel comfortable doing so.”

Myungjun gave a low whistle as he typed out the response. “You’re moving rather fast in this relationship, aren’t you?”

Dongmin ground his teeth down. “It is  _ not _ a relationship. I just met him at the library. We don’t know each other. He merely wants my expertise on the subject of Hwang Hyeon.”

Myungjun eyed him suspiciously, but before he could say anything else, Jinwoo asked, “Speaking of, how do you know so much about Hwang Hyeon, anyway? I assume the two of you must have met at some point since you were alive in the 1800’s, correct?”

“Yes,” Dongmin confirmed. “We met in the late 1800’s and struck up a friendship. I helped to write most of  _ Ohagimoon _ , and though my name has never been attributed with it, I still consider myself the author.”

Jinwoo looked rather impressed. “So you were friends with a famous poet? That’s cool.”

“I’ve been a famous writer myself,” Dongmin pointed out. “I suppose it’s similar for many other immortal beings. We’re alive for much longer and so we get the chance to introduce ourselves to humans who then become well-known through some means. For example, I know Myungjun has been involved in several military coups and has also acted as an advisor for some emperors.”

“So much you don’t tell me,” Jinwoo teased, glancing over at his employer.

Myungjun scoffed. “A human needn’t know these sorts of things! You ought to run along, Jinwoo, as us  _ immortals _ are involved in this conversation.”

“The conversation involves a human,” Jinwoo pointed out. “Don’t you think you need some human input, then?”

“Human input would be nice, actually,” Dongmin agreed, mostly because Myungjun’s input had always been less than helpful. Myungjun would tell him to forgo any sort of friendship with Bin, if only because Bin was a human. Jinwoo, at least, was under the impression that they were all similar enough, and so Dongmin decided that he wanted Myungjun to help him with his next steps.

“I think, Dongmin, that you are harboring some sort of crush on this college kid,” Myungjun blurted out. “And you  _ know _ that’s dangerous.”

“Why on earth would I ever have a crush on some random kid?” Dongmin asked, feeling a bit offended. He returned Myungjun’s glare and continued, “We met at the library. He has yet to return a book that I desperately need, and after we talked for a bit, I discovered that he’s writing his college thesis paper on Hwang Hyeon. He asked for my assistance, knowing that I’ve written a book about Hwang Hyeon, and I agreed.  _ That’s _ it.”

Myungjun stared at Dongmin for a few seconds longer before shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, whatever,” he muttered. “You do what you want. If you do end up getting involved with him, let me know. I have some tips on how to fuck a human.”

“I assume it’s not much different than fucking an immortal being?” 

“Oh, it’s  _ vastly _ different, which I know you are aware of.” Myungjun lost his glare and offered Dongmin a mischievous smile. “You remember our romps, don’t you?”

Dongmin sighed. “I try not to.”

“Well, I do.” Myungjun glanced at Jinwoo and explained, “He’s a very good lover. Much better than you are, Jinwoo, though I honestly don’t blame you in the slightest; you’re human, so it’s only natural to suck at sex.”

Jinwoo smirked and rolled his eyes. Despite how recent his employment had begun, he seemed rather used to Myungjun’s rude and outlandish behavior. 

“Please do not ridicule your employees in front of me,” Dongmin chastised Myungjun, who merely laughed. “I’m sure Jinwoo is just fine at what he does, but believe me when I say that I am not looking for that type of thing with this college student.” As he was all packed up, Dongmin grabbed his briefcase and stood from his chair. “I do thank you, Myungjun, for checking my email for me and for sending a response to Moon Bin. Please let me know what he replies. I will now be on my way, if you don’t mind, for I have a meeting with my editor.”

Myungjun bade him farewell, but Jinwoo asked, his voice lowered to the loudest whisper ever, “Do I frisk guests as they leave?”

“That would be super fun,” Myungjun answered in a giggle.

Dongmin hurried out before they could enact any more lewd plans.

* * *

It had been a while since Dongmin had fully enjoyed the company of a human. He had acquaintances, certainly, but his only friend was Myungjun, who was proudly  _ not _ human. Therefore, Dongmin realized he wasn’t certain how he was supposed to act around Bin. Should he make jokes? Should he remain cool and collected? Should he be warm and welcoming? Should he make tea, or offer food? Such was the chaos of his mind that he barely heard the knock at his door.

He stopped combing his hair, which was a task he had been working on for the past twenty minutes. Bin was here, and he had yet to prepare drinks or snacks -- humans liked drinks and snacks, didn’t they? Dongmin’s editor, at least, always had tea and sometimes he had chips to munch on.

Dongmin cursed to himself as he set his comb aside. He had no time to make anything at the moment. He might as well greet Bin and try to get their interview over with as soon as possible, just in case Bin felt peckish.

When he opened the door, he was met with that goofy-looking kid, who at least seemed to have made an effort to look nice. He wore a button-up shirt with a pair of black trousers. Dongmin would overlook his less-than-pristine sneakers and old backpack for the rest of the outfit, he supposed.

“Good afternoon, Moon Bin,” Dongmin greeted, stepping aside to allow Bin room. “You can take your shoes off right here, and I have some slippers for you to wear.”

“Thanks!” Bin smiled at him as he followed Dongmin’s instructions. He talked all the while, gesturing around with gusto. “This place is  _ super _ nice! But I guess famous authors get to choose nice apartments, huh? I live in a dump. I mean, I guess it isn’t so bad, but I have two roommates just to make ends meet, and I have to share the room with one of them. The other pays more, so he gets a room to himself. Oh my god, is that an old rotary phone?”

Dongmin found it a bit confusing to keep up with Bin’s train of thought, but once Bin’s attention was on the phone, he nodded his head. “Yes. I’m surprised you know what a rotary phone is. Kids these days often don’t.”

Bin shot him a look and said, “I’m twenty -- you’re only three years older than me, right?”

Ah, that was right. Bin was a human.

Dongmin offered him a small smile, trying to brush off his mistake. “It’s a joke. I just...the phone was a gift from a friend. I, um, I like old things.”

“I can see that. I mean, you also have a record-player over there--” Bin pointed at Dongmin’s turntable, “--and...is this an old radio?”

“It is,” Dongmin confirmed.

Bin gave a low whistle, then looked around the apartment. “You don’t have, like,  _ anything _ modern.”

Was that a bad thing? Dongmin wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or not. Bin’s face was impassive and refused to give anything away. Should he have modern technology? Myungjun always told him he should, but if he got along fine without, why ought he pay more and learn how to operate brand new devices? The old stuff was fine!

He had to defend his lifestyle, and he had to appease Bin, so he quickly said, “I have a laptop. It’s in my bedroom at the moment. I have used that laptop to watch several television shows.”

“Anything good?” 

“I’m afraid not. Everything I’ve found is  _ dreadful _ . These shows have been laced with profanity and vulgarities.”

Bin shot him a crooked smile. “So you hate cussing, huh?”

“I don’t mind  _ cussing _ , I guess.” Dongmin thought of Myungjun, who had the dirty mouth of a sailor. “I just feel like these shows are a bit over-the-top.”

“But that’s what makes them fun!” Bin argued. “I like stuff like that.”

Dongmin would never fall in love with Bin. They simply were not compatible. Bin had no taste, and Dongmin only liked men with taste.

With that comforting thought in his mind, he gestured toward his old loveseat and asked, “Shall we begin this interview, then?”

“Right.” Bin nodded his head and then began to unpack what he had brought in his backpack. There was a laptop, a journal, a recorder -- Dongmin was always rather impressed with the tech-savvy attitudes of the younger crowd these days. He supposed that since they grew up with technology, it made sense that they would embrace it.

So it didn’t make sense that Myungjun, who grew up before the invention of fireworks, had always been ready to adapt to whatever changes the world had to offer him. 

“Hey, do you have a pen?” Bin suddenly asked him, rifling deep within the recesses of his backpack. “I think I forgot mine.”

“You forgot a pen?” Dongmin parroted.

“I mean, I was just super excited, and...I dunno, sometimes I forget pens! I can usually borrow them from classmates, but we aren’t in class, so…” Bin gave Dongmin a sheepish grin.

Dongmin was amazed at Bin’s stupidity. Still, he was nothing if not a good host, so he found his nice set of pens where he always kept them, on the desk in his study. When he passed one over to Bin, however, Bin merely gazed at it and turned it over and over in his hands.

“It’s a fountain pen,” Dongmin muttered, taking a seat across from Bin. “Have you never used one of these?”

“Honestly, no. Just, uh...normal pens.” 

“Ballpoint pens, I presume.” 

“Yeah, those.”

Dongmin sighed as Bin tried out the fountain pen. He pushed down too hard at first and made a small tear in his paper. The second try seemed much better, and he looked up proudly at Dongmin, displaying the messy date written in the top corner of the paper.

Dongmin felt like he was praising a child, or an animal, when he said, “Very well done.”

Perhaps Myungjun wasn’t too far off in his observations that humans were equal to many animals. He sure felt like he was dealing with one when he was around Bin.

He quite liked it. Maybe he ought to find a human for himself.

But then when the interview started, he realized that Bin was actually far more intelligent than he had given him credit for. The kid could remember dates and names that many other students would likely never even bother learning. He had counterpoints for Dongmin’s statements, and questions that truly made Dongmin ponder. Nothing he said was rude or belittling, and he listened quite well. Dongmin found himself enjoying their time, and as they parried back and forth on the topic of Hwang Hyeon’s writings, Dongmin relaxed a bit and allowed his speech to become looser and far more casual.

“I think it’s dumb to discount the possibility of a ghost writer assisting Hwang Hyeon in his earlier works,” Dongmin said when hour two of Bin’s visit had passed. “We don’t have definite proof either way, so why should we only hold one way as truth?”

Bin nodded his head enthusiastically, typing a few things down into his laptop. “I don’t disagree,” he murmured, “but the handwriting on both of his works matches up.”

“He could have copied from another work,” Dongmin pointed out, though that was  _ exactly _ what had happened. 

“And waste precious paper?”

“Oh, god, it was only the 1800’s! It wasn’t as if paper was completely scarce during that time!” Dongmin fussed.

Bin gave a small, charming giggle and Dongmin wondered if it would be possible to make him laugh even more. It had been a long time since he made anyone laugh, sans Myungjun. He liked the warmth that spread through him with the sound of Bin’s laughter.

“Okay, so your theory is,” Bin started, reading from his notes, both written and typed, “that Hwang Hyeon did write his most famous work,  _ Maecheonyarok _ , but  _ Ohagimoon _ and a few of his other earlier pieces were likely ghostwritten by some other mysterious author, right?”

“That is correct,” Dongmin confirmed.

“Then why did you even come to this conclusion? Like...it makes more sense that he would have written everything himself. Why do you think he didn’t?”

Bin leaned forward, curious to hear Dongmin’s thoughts. It was one of the first times someone had expressed such interest in what most considered to be a rather crackpot theory. Dongmin was easily dismissed, and his book on Hwang Hyeon had been less than well-received by the masses. Fortunately, he was able to rely on his “family’s” extensive writing legacy (though all of those books by supposed family members were actually his books, just under different aliases he had amassed throughout the years) and so he continued writing, regardless of what others said. And, sure, maybe he shouldn’t have written a book based on a man he had befriended in his past, and maybe he shouldn’t have included topics that were actually impossible to confirm, but he  _ wanted _ to show a different thought from established academia. History was always changing, and there were truths hidden under layers upon layers of falsehoods. No one wanted to examine these falsehoods in greater detail, for fear that they were wrong. Dongmin’s book sought to do just that, and so it angered other historians greatly.

But Bin, a student of that sort of academia, was simply inquisitive. He was not judgmental, nor was he dismissive.

He wanted to know more.

Dongmin longed to tell him all about his past. He wanted to finally come clean and tell a human about what he had gone through, what he had dealt with. He wanted to explain how he was a ghostwriter for a great poet and historian. He wanted to complain about how stupid he had once been to pursue Myungjun romantically, and how much he now longed for someone to share the rest of his immortal days with.

But he knew better than to say anything. To say anything would make him a laughingstock, someone to ridicule. It was better if he kept quiet and only focused on pretending to be as human as possible.

“I have spoken to other descendants, who wish to remain anonymous, of Hwang Hyeon. They claim to have heard oral tellings of a ghostwriter in Hwang Hyeon’s earlier works. While I cannot reference them in fear of outing them against their wishes, I choose to pursue such an interesting topic and treat it as truth.”

Bin was quick to type that down, too. Dongmin felt his face grow red and he wondered if this would later come back to haunt him. He hoped not. He prayed it wouldn’t. It was a thesis paper for a college, and if he was unfortunate then it could be scrutinized too harshly. It could ruin Bin, but, more importantly, it could definitely ruin Dongmin.

Before he could give any warnings, though, Bin was quick to say, “I’m going to stay as objective as possible in my thesis. I mean, I have lots of other work I’m referencing. I’m just...I’m mostly curious. It’s mostly for myself, you know?”

Dongmin blinked. “Mostly for yourself? How so?”

“I have your book and it was just...it was always super interesting to me. You’re unlike any other author I’ve ever read before. You have your own viewpoint that remains unchanged, even when everyone else disagrees.” Bin smiled again, that cute, crooked smile, and continued, “I like that, Mr. Cha. I think it’s pretty brave of you to do that.”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear such a thing. “Well, I don’t think  _ brave _ is necessarily the correct word. All I’ve really done is written what I believe.”

“Still.” Bin shrugged his shoulders and finished writing down whatever he was working on. “It’s brave.”

Oh, god, Dongmin hoped he wasn’t blushing any longer. He could easily explain away his initial blush, but if his blush had intensified due to Bin’s kind words, then Dongmin knew he would look rather foolish.

In order to hide what might have been an intense reddening of his cheeks, he cleared his throat and fiddled with his own shirt, keeping his head slightly ducked. 

“Anyway,” he murmured, “do you have any more questions?”

Bin didn’t answer at first, and when Dongmin spared a glance back up at him, he realized Bin was staring.

“Oh!” Bin had been caught, and he was quick to look away. Dongmin thought it was crazy, but he could detect a blush growing on  _ Bin’s _ cheeks.

Interesting. Weird. Strange.

What would have caused  _ Bin _ to blush?

“I, um...I think I’ve got everything,” Bin said, flipping aimlessly through his notes. “I mean, that’s everything I could think of asking at the moment.”

Dongmin nodded his head and stood up. “Well, I’m always open to more questions,” he commented, offering Bin a smile. “I feel as if I don’t have too much to do these days, and it’s rather refreshing to talk to someone so much younger.”

“I’m not  _ that _ much younger,” Bin fussed at him, packing away his things and also standing from his seat. “Three years, remember?”

It was well over a hundred. Dongmin refused to say that.

“Yes, sorry, I forget. I just...I think I hang around too many old people. Historians, elders, friends who seem like they’re from the 8th century -- too many old people. I fear I’m becoming one of them.”

Bin pointedly looked at the rotary phone. “ _ Well _ ,” he started.

Dongmin scoffed at him. “It’s an antique!” he explained. “One I love very dearly!”

“Does it still work? Do you still use it? I mean, my grandparents don’t even have a landline anymore! They use cell phones, too!”

Dongmin knew he was far older than Bin’s grandparents. He was likely the same age as great-great grandparents. But, once more, he didn’t dare say anything that would ever give away his actual age. 

“I use a cell phone,” he lied.

Bin brightened. “Would you like to give me your number? Just, you know, just in case I have more questions.”

He would very much like to give Bin his number, only he didn’t  _ actually _ have a cell phone. Myungjun had been bugging him to get one for years now, and Dongmin still had yet to make the switch. Why should he? His landline worked well enough, he supposed, and he wasn’t involved in social media, and everything else he could simply rely on Myungjun for. But now he recognized his mistake, and he found his mind working fast to come up with a solution.

_ Myungjun _ had a phone.

Once again, he might have to defer Bin to the middleman, Myungjun himself. It wasn’t ideal, but he supposed Myungjun would be of use until Dongmin went out and bought a phone for himself, which he hoped to do after Bin left.

So he nodded his head, and said, “I can give you the number now, if you’d like.”

“Oh, sure!” Bin nodded his head eagerly, and then proceeded to add Dongmin as a contact in his phone. He looked rather pleased, too, his eyes alight with pride. Dongmin could only smile awkwardly and he wondered how he ought to go about explaining this mess to Myungjun.

In the end, though, he didn’t have a chance to explain before Myungjun called him that night and asked, “Why do I have a text in my phone that says,  _ Thanks for today, Dongmin _ ?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually stuck with my schedule and completed this late fic on time whoa.
> 
> ANYWAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONCE AGAIN TO [@AstrosSunflower](https://twitter.com/AstrosSunflower)!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE!

He did quite like his new cell phone. While it took some time to get used to, and he made many calls on his landline still, he could at least enjoy some of the texts Bin was sending his way. He had many questions, most of them mundane, and Dongmin took great joy in answering every single last question. He had an answer for whatever Bin asked, whether it was an inquiry about Hwang Hyeon’s personal life, or if it was something deeper about his works. In fact, he found it difficult to draw himself away from his phone, so frequent were Bin’s messages, and his friends started to notice.

Myungjun snapped his fingers at him one particular afternoon. He was already peeved that his favorite restaurant from the 1950’s had closed, and he had taken to sitting in front of the new store and calling random people to complain. As it was, he seemed upset that Dongmin was not partaking in his woes.

“I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes!” he grumbled when Dongmin finally glanced up from his cell phone. “I didn’t expect you to become addicted to your fucking phone. You should be as angry about this situation as I am!”

It was Jinwoo who answered with a loud sigh, “I told you before we came by that I thought it had closed down in the ‘80’s.”

“Shut up, Jinwoo,” Myungjun responded. 

“It’s been closed since then?” Dongmin asked. When Jinwoo nodded his head, Dongmin scoffed. “And you haven’t come here since the ‘80’s? You haven’t thought of eating here until now?”

“ _You_ shut up, too!” Myungjun fussed, hopping to his feet. “This isn’t about me! This is about the closure of a very important restaurant! It should not have been closed!”

“Why don’t we try the new restaurant?” Jinwoo suggested. “I’m hungry, and you’ve been arguing with random people on the phone for, like, an hour.”

Myungjun pouted, clearly distraught that his friends did not share his frustrations. “I just think Dongmin should be more concerned about me.”

Jinwoo glanced at Dongmin, who shrugged his shoulders.

“It is odd, actually,” said Jinwoo, “that he’s been texting this entire time.”

“He’s been texting?” Just like that, Myungjun’s anger seemed to drift away and was replaced instead with curiosity. “He doesn’t have anyone to text, though, does he?”

With a snort, Jinwoo replied, “That college kid he did the interview with, probably. I think you got a text from him a few nights ago, before Dongmin got his phone, didn’t you, Myungjun?”

“How do you know so much about my life?” Dongmin asked in a mumble, his face red with embarrassment.

“He’s nosey,” Myungjun answered. “And I think I got the text while he was sucking my dick, so I told him all about it. He listens well, doesn’t he, even with his mouth full. He’s a really good human, probably the best I’ve ever had.”

Dongmin felt even more flushed with Myungjun’s easy admission. Jinwoo, once more, didn’t seem too put off by the reveal. He merely nodded his head in agreement to the story, and Dongmin was quick to look away from both his friends.

“An-anyway,” Dongmin said, clearing his throat, “the college student is asking questions. I’ve thought it only polite that I answer his questions in a speedy manner, so as to not leave him hanging.”

Neither Jinwoo nor Myungjun responded. They only stared at him; Jinwoo with surprise and Myungjun with indifference.

“What?” asked Dongmin, feeling a little bit defensive. “Am I not allowed to answer his questions?”

“It’s not that,” Myungjun started, but it was Jinwoo who finished it for him.

“I think that the college kid might have a crush on you.”

Dongmin balked. “A _crush_? Excuse me? He certainly does not! You can look through the history of our messages; nothing indicates any sort of romantic feelings!”

“Yeah, but…” Jinwoo laughed a little bit, his small eyes crinkling around the edges. “I was a college kid a few years ago, and I would send lots of text messages to people I liked. I would ask stupid, silly questions that either didn’t have good answers but would spark conversation, or questions that would have basic answers that I could have researched myself. I didn’t care so much about the content of those conversations; I just craved the responses I got.”

Was that what Bin was doing? Was he sending texts just to get a reply? It was possible, but Dongmin thought about their conversations, and he couldn’t find a single instance in memory of Bin acting remotely interested.

“If anything,” Dongmin retorted, “he’s interested in me as an author. He could care less about...about romantic feelings.”

“How do you know?” Myungjun asked him. He was grinning, and it was clear he was enjoying the conversation. “Have you asked the kid about his feelings?”

“I...no. But I don’t have to! I just know!”

“Dude, you’re, like, two-hundred years old,” Jinwoo teased. “I don’t think you know how people flirt these days. Everything’s done through text. You can even ask people out through text.”

“You ask them out through _text?_ ” Dongmin was appalled. Whatever happened to the sweet and passionate rituals of his past? Why had they been replaced with something so dreadfully quick and convenient? Whatever happened to making couples _work_ for their love?

Jinwoo snorted. He obviously found the situation quite funny.

“Last time I was in a relationship, or a quasi-relationship, I remember texting them to ask, _Do you like me?_ ” Jinwo reminisced. “Very simple. Straightforward. Just how it should be done.”

“Oh.” Dongmin still didn’t like the idea, but Jinwoo was smart about all things _modern_. He was no liar, either, and he wouldn’t lead Dongmin astray as Myungjun was apt to. “Should...should I text him that, then?”

Myungjun and Jinwoo glanced at each other, debating. Then, finally, they both nodded their heads as they came to their unspoken agreement.

“I thought you were against this, Myungjun,” Dongmin accused, glowering at his friend.

“I was,” said Myungjun, “but I don’t think you’ve fucked anyone for a few years, and both Jinwoo and I have definitely noticed a stick up your ass. We’ve actually discussed having you join us in bed one night.”

“I don’t mind,” Jinwoo blurted out. “It’d be nice to have someone tall and handsome for a change.”

“It’d be _really_ nice if the two of you would never again discuss such nonsense,” Dongmin mumbled as he pulled out his phone.

Myungjun shrugged, but Jinwoo continued, “No, really, you’re a catch! I’ve had to roleplay you in bed before.”

“He does a shit job,” said Myungjun.

“You are both horrible and embarrassing.” Dongmin needed new friends. If he hung out with these two any longer, he was liable to shoot himself in the head.

Jinwoo giggled. “Sorry,” he apologized. “But are you going to text your college kid?”

“I...I suppose I ought to. Just to clear things up. I assure you, though, you’re definitely wrong about his feelings.” He typed out his question, pecking at the touchscreen with one finger (and causing Myungjun to groan and roll his eyes in anguish) before he finally had a message he deemed well enough to send.

The response he was given came almost immediately, and he read it out to Myungjun and Jinwoo.

“I said, _Bin, I must ask if you have feelings for me._ The reply is... _Maybe. Only if you have feelings for me_ , with a...what is this, Myungjun?”

Myungjun peered over at the phone and tittered. “A winky-face emoji. He likes you.”

“He _definitely_ likes you,” confirmed Jinwoo, once more agreeing with Myungjun’s asinine observation.

Dongmin blinked. He read the message over and over again and realized with growing horror that he might like this human back.

Damn it.

* * *

He knew he was old-fashioned. He knew he was traditional. He knew he refused to embrace modernity as Myungjun so easily had. But why should he text his love confession when he could craft a beautifully-written letter in his precise and perfect penmanship? 

It was easier said than done to write a letter, though. Dongmin almost envied Bin; he could easily text out his feelings in less than a sentence. It was far more convenient to text, far more quick. A letter would take Dongmin a day or two to write, and then he would have to wait a day or two for it to send, and that was only _if_ Bin even opened letters. Dongmin heard talk from a lot of young people these days that they didn’t bother with mail since everything was done online.

“Preposterous,” Dongmin scoffed to himself, staring over at the paper in front of him. 

If Bin _did_ check his mail, Dongmin thought he would be very flattered with such a confession. How often did people send out love confessions in the mail these days, anyway? Even if he couldn’t appreciate the art of Dongmin’s prose, then at least he would likely appreciate how unique the confession would be.

With that in mind, Dongmin began to write out his reply, determined to make it the best damn letter he had ever written in his life.

He thought it was pretty good, and he called Myungjun up that night to read it aloud.

“ _Dearest Moon Bin_ ,” he started, and he was instantly interrupted by Jinwoo, who was obviously listening in.

“Take out _Moon_ ,” Jinwoo suggested. “It’ll be more familiar that way.”

Dongmin scoffed. “I’m not meaning to be _familiar_. It’s a response to his text. It ought not be too familiar.”

“Good,” said Myungjun, “ignore the advice of a _human_.”

Before the two of them could start up a weird and flirtatious argument over Jinwoo’s humanity, Dongmin continued, “ _Dearest_ Moon _Bin. I apologize for not responding to your text message, but I feel as if a written letter works better to portray my feelings. I did not understand those feelings at first, but after you texted me about_ your _feelings, then mine became more clear. I have grown to like you, Bin, as more than a friend. You have somehow wormed your way into my heart and have become very dear to me. You have been a source of amusement and a source of comfort. You do not judge me. You listen to my thoughts. You are a bright, intelligent man. You are also very attractive, which I assure you I have noticed from the start. I hope that you might consider joining me on a date as we test our compatibility. Send your response as soon as possible_ .” He broke into his own reading to add, “I’ve also added in parenthesis, _Or, if you’d like for me to use your lingo, ASAP_.”

“Very good,” Myungjun approved. “If he doesn’t know you’re over a hundred fucking years old, that’ll inform him.”

“Shut up,” Dongmin snapped, but he chose not to comment on his joke, nor did he make any decision to take it out. He thought it was funny, and he was certain Bin would also think so. “My last part says, _You may send a letter addressed to my home, or, if you so desire, you may also text me. Yours Affectionately, Cha Eunwoo_.”

“Wait,” Jinwoo murmured, “Cha Eunwoo?”

“His alias,” Myungjun answered before Dongmin could say anything. “His legal name is Lee Dongmin, but if he keeps writing books under his legal name, then people will start to get suspicious that he hasn’t died, nor has he aged. So for the next fifty years, Cha Eunwoo is his persona to get published. Though,” Myungjun’s tone turned suspicious, “Moon Bin only knows you by your author name?”

“Well, he met me under such circumstances. What am I supposed to do now?” Dongmin chewed on his lower lip. He hadn’t realized the gravitation of his error. If he and Bin entered into a romantic relationship, then the truth would come out sooner or later. Bin didn’t seem like the sort of man to appreciate being lied to.

Fortunately, it was Jinwoo, not Myungjun, who did his best to ease Dongmin’s concerns. “Maybe just tell him on your date what your name really is. I doubt a college kid will be the sort to do heavy research.”

“College kids sound hot,” Myungjun piped up, but both Jinwoo and Dongmin ignored him.

“Alright. I’ll do that.” Dongmin hoped their conversation would go well. Bin likely wouldn’t judge him; he _hoped_ Bin wouldn’t judge him.

“Though,” Jinwoo continued, “I have to ask, but how do you expect to keep up a relationship if you’re immortal? Like, I never thought about it much with the two of you since Myungjun is happy to throw me to the curb in twenty years--”

“Fifteen, at the rate you’re aging,” Myungjun muttered. Once more, no one paid much attention.

“--but how will it work with _you_ , Dongmin? You’re far kinder of a man than Myungjun is.”

Dongmin swallowed thickly as he stared down at his letter. Truthfully, he had been ignoring his immortality. For once, he wanted to live as if he wasn’t unable to die. For once he wanted to pretend that he had a lovely boyfriend and a stable life. He wanted to look into Bin’s eyes and whisper silly nonsense about growing old together. And then, he actually _wanted_ to grow old and to spend the rest of his days in retirement by Bin’s side.

“I...I don’t really know,” Dongmin admitted. “Everything’s been moving rather fast for me at the moment. I truly did not believe I would ever get this far into a relationship.”

Jinwoo made a slight humming noise; it sounded pitying. Dongmin couldn’t blame him at all, for his efforts at love _were_ rather pathetic.

“He had a thing for someone in the ‘30’s,” Myungjun blabbed. “Isn’t that why you quit sleeping with me, Minnie?”

“I quit sleeping with you because you’re insufferable,” Dongmin snapped. “I honestly don’t know how Jinwoo puts up with you.”

“He pays me _really_ well,” Jinwoo responded, which was information Dongmin thought he could have done without. “Also, it really isn’t bad. I mean, some of the kinks are weird, I’ll admit that, but he--”

“I just want to know if this letter is good to send!” Dongmin whined, deciding he wasn’t in the mood to delve into the strange relationship of Myungjun and Jinwoo.

Myungjun cleared his throat. “If you’re looking for a traditional relationship that will inevitably end in terrible heartache and will cause you to become depressed for years, then I think this will do.”

“Perfect,” Dongmin breathed. “I’ll get his address and send it, then.”

* * *

It took a few days for Bin to respond to the letter, and he did so by calling Dongmin’s cell phone.

Dongmin was eager to answer. He had been awaiting the reply and it was excruciating to wait any longer. The moment Bin’s name popped up in his phone, Dongmin was quick to grab at his device. He answered just as Myungjun had taught him -- pressing the green button.

“Hello?” he greeted, holding the phone up to his ear as his heart pounded in anticipation.

“Hey! Eunwoo!” came Bin’s perfectly gorgeous voice. Dongmin swore that Bin could melt the hearts of anyone he would come in contact with. It was a wonder he was still (blessedly) single. 

“Hello,” Dongmin repeated himself. He sat down on his couch, unable to stand with how jittery his knee was. Had he ever been so nervous and unsure before? He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt butterflies flitting about in his tummy.

“I got your letter,” said Bin.

“Oh?”

“You’re the most eloquent person on this planet,” Bin continued. “Seriously, I mean...the letter was super nice. You know most people don’t send out love confessions in the mail, though, right?”

Dongmin gave a short laugh, figuring that was the right response to Bin’s teasing tone. “That’s exactly what my friend told me. I just...I thought it would be a nice touch.”

“You’re so old-school. I love it.”

He loved it? Dongmin’s hands were clammy, and the phone nearly slid out of his palm. Still, he held onto it tightly, not wanting to miss a word of what Bin had to say.

“I did wonder, though, if you wanted an answer in writing. Like, I guess I can send a letter back to you, but…”

“You don’t have to,” Dongmin was quick to assure him. “I am satisfied with any response that you feel most comfortable with. I felt comfortable writing a letter, and if you feel comfortable talking over the phone, or even texting, then I shall accept the response.”

He heard Bin try his best to stifle a giggle, but before he could ask what was so funny, Bin said, “Eunwoo, I would _love_ to join you on a date to test our compatibility. ASAP, if you’d like.”

Hearing his own words thrown back in his face was enough to make Dongmin blush. “Ah,” he murmured. “Was the letter too much?”

“Nope. I’m just having fun.” Bin giggled again. “But, seriously, let’s go on a date.”

“Where...where to?”

“Anywhere! Ooh, I know of a pretty good fried chicken joint. I can take you there, if you’d like.”

Dongmin wet his lips with his tongue. He was definitely treading in brand new territory. He had never before planned a date over the phone. Honestly, it had been ages since he had last dated, anyway, and he wasn’t sure how quickly he might mess things up.

“I...I accept the offer,” he replied.

“Great,” Bin said, and Dongmin could almost hear the silly grin over his phone.

* * *

Dating Bin was far less difficult than Dongmin had initially assumed it would be. They fell into a familiar rhythm of conversation. Bin was in college and thus he was educated and intelligent, and Dongmin found it easy to speak to him. They would talk of history, of Hwang Hyeon. They would talk of philosophy, of life’s greatest mysteries. They would talk of religion, of the possibility of a higher being. They talked of anything and everything for the next three (perfect) dates.

Until, on the fourth date at an amusement park (Bin’s idea; Dongmin hadn’t been to an amusement park since they started popping up in Korea), Bin asked, “Why don’t we talk about _you?_ ”

Dongmin blinked over at him. Bin was holding onto a large cone of cotton candy, and he had some silly headband fit snugly on his head -- dog ears, or maybe they were wolf ears, or perhaps gray cat ears. Whatever they were, he looked adorable, and he bit into his cotton candy while awaiting Dongmin’s reply.

“What about me?” he asked Bin, reaching up to right his own cute headband -- he knew his was a bear. He had requested to go without, but Bin refused that request. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, though, because it was clear they were a couple and Dongmin felt rather proud to have such a _couple_ thing to do with Bin.

Bin shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at a rollercoaster high above them. “You just don’t talk much about yourself. I mean, other than your job, I don’t know much about you.”

“You know about me,” Dongmin argued. “I talk about my ideas on a multitude of subjects.”

“Yeah, but that isn’t _knowing_ you,” Bin complained. “Like...okay, for me, I have great parents and I have an annoying sister and I live with three roommates as I continue college. I love history, and my dream is to one day sell books, like you do. I used to take dance as a child, and I wanted to become an actor, but once reality hit, I changed my mind pretty fast. I like to ride my bike and I like going to the beach and one day I think I’m going to go bungee jumping, just to say I did it.”

Dongmin processed all of this new information and realized they _hadn’t_ spent any time learning the facts about each other. Dongmin knew exactly what religion Bin was, and Dongmin knew exactly what he thought of the current president, but he knew very little about Bin as a person.

And, thus, Bin knew very little about him.

“Your turn,” Bin said, the smile on his face crinkling his eyes. “Tell me about _you_.”

He had yet to devise a good cover story to use solely for Bin, so he simply chose the one he had developed for his alias. “Well, I’m an only child. My mother and father passed away a few years ago and I have lived alone since then. My best friend works for some security corporation and is really high-tech, but I know absolutely nothing about current technology. I write very well, and I read often. I, too, studied history in college but I dropped out before I could graduate. My father wrote biographies and my grandfather also wrote books concerning historical events, so I believe writing flows through my veins.”

What else was there? What else could draw Bin closer to him?

He cleared his throat and continued, “I, too, thought about acting but I’m far too shy for it. I hate going to museums. I’m a good driver. And...and one day, I’d like to own a pig.”

Bin snorted in amusement. “A pig? You don’t look like a guy who’d own a pig.”

“A small pig, of course,” Dongmin countered. “A small, cute one. Not one of the giant ones.”

“I getcha. Pigs are kinda cute. The small ones, I mean.”

Did he _really_ want to own a pig? Maybe. Probably not. He tried to imagine what having a pig in his house would be like, and he found it was likely to be wild and chaotic. He preferred a life that was _not_ wild and chaotic.

“Perhaps not a pig,” he muttered.

Bin laughed. “Really? What’s with the sudden change of mind?”

“They...they might be a little too much,” Dongmin admitted. “I would rather have a quiet life.”

“You should get a cat, then. Cats are pretty calm. I mean, my family’s cat isn’t. She’s rowdy. But most cats, maybe, are pretty calm.”

“Your anecdote does not persuade me much.”

Bin laughed again, and Dongmin was giddy with happiness. He could count _twice_ now that he made Bin laugh. He wasn’t used to making people laugh; Myungjun only ever laughed _at_ him, so he claimed. But here Bin was, laughing _with_ him. Bin must find his jokes to be funny. Bin must find _him_ to be funny.

But before Dongmin could make a comment on Bin’s sweet laughter, or the fact that he wanted to hear more of such sweet laughter, they suddenly stopped. It was then that Dongmin realized they had walked into a line for the tallest rollercoaster in the park. Dongmin blinked and glanced over at Bin, who gave Dongmin a sheepish smile.

“I’ve been wanting to ride this one, but I haven’t found anyone who’ll go on it with me.”

“Oh,” said Dongmin. “I’ll ride it.”

Bin’s face lit up. “Really? You will?”

“Sure. It looks exciting.” 

“Thank god.” Bin gave a sigh and finished off his cotton candy. Dongmin refrained from informing him of the sticky fluff that was now plastered to his chin. “The last time I went on a date to an amusement park, my date refused to ride _anything_. I mean, I’m scared, too, but it’s...it’s the exhilaration and the fear that make coasters so fun, right?”

Dongmin nodded his head, though he felt a little pang go through his heart. Of course Bin had dated before! Dongmin had been operating as if _he_ was the first of Bin’s boyfriends, but now that he thought of it, there were definitely others before him. Bin was tall and very muscular. He had a good laugh and he had a cute smile. He was kind and thoughtful and intelligent. It made sense that he had previous boyfriends.

Dongmin decided that he would just have to be better than all of the previous boyfriends.

“Rollercoasters _are_ exhilarating.” He decided against mentioning that he had been around for the introduction of rollercoasters, and he still recalled the day news spread to the peninsula that America had built some sort of coaster. Myungjun had excitedly discussed the possibilities of rail cars for fun, and Dongmin had scoffed at him and explained the idea would never catch on. Decades later, and here he was, ready to ride a coaster he thought impossible.

Besides, if he mentioned anything about the first rollercoaster, Bin would _definitely_ ask his age, and then he might be in trouble.

As it was, Bin only grinned at Dongmin’s statement. He looked a little relieved, and Dongmin wondered if he had been afraid that this date would go similarly to his last theme park date.

In a sudden bout of confidence and affection, Dongmin assured him, “I promise I want to do everything with you. I don’t care if it’s rollercoasters or, heaven forbid, bungee jumping off a cliff -- I really like being around you, Bin.”

He had never seen Bin truly blush before, but as he watched, Bin’s cheeks grew red. His ears grew even more red, if that was possible. Dongmin quite liked the flustered look on his date, and he hid a smile as Bin shrugged his shoulders.

“I, um...I like being around you, too.”

“Very well. We’ve established a mutual connection.”

“So we have. That’s what you mentioned in your letter.” Bin laughed breathlessly and asked, “Are you going to write another letter asking me to officially become your boyfriend?”

That _had_ to be another confession. According to Myungjun, modern dates were just _dates_. No one was a couple until one of the two asked the other. If the other agreed, then they would officially become a couple. 

So was Bin asking him to officially become his boyfriend?

Dongmin had to ask. Too much was at stake if he had misinterpreted Bin’s words.

“You want to become boyfriends?”

Bin nodded his head, but said nothing, suddenly seeming rather shy.

He was _endearing_. He was endearing and adorable and Dongmin tried to reach over and grab his hand, but then a voice was in his ear saying, “Go ahead and sit down, sir!”

They had made it to the front of the line. They had made it to the rollercoaster. Bin looked equally shocked at their arrival, and in stunned silence, they both sat down beside each other. They were strapped in tightly by the fussy attendants and Dongmin decided he could do nothing much until the ride was over. After all, it would be terribly unromantic to officially become a couple while dealing with a tall rollercoaster, especially since Bin was supposedly frightened of said coaster.

He had to wait.

How long were rollercoasters usually? Three minutes, maybe? Three minutes at most? Perhaps two minutes, if he was lucky. Even luckier, maybe even less than a minute. But he had already waited a minute to say anything! And what if the ride stalled? What then? Was he to wait half an hour for it to be fixed? 

And what if the ride _broke?_ What if Bin was ejected from his seat and was killed in a terrible freak accident? Then he would die without ever receiving an answer. That was a recipe for a ghostly haunt. Dongmin would _not_ allow Bin to die without a response.

So just as they made it to the top of the ride, Dongmin grabbed Bin’s hand, squeezed it, and yelled out, “I want to be your boyfriend, Bin!”

Bin’s jubilance was quickly replaced by a scream as the coaster sped down the big hill. Bin squeezed his hand even harder than Dongmin had done, and Dongmin was _certain_ that several of his fingers had been broken. The ride had many twists and turns that pressed both men up against each other and tossed them about, and Dongmin prayed that it would all be over soon so he and Bin could have an actual discussion over their new relationship status.

It took about two minutes and fourteen seconds for the coaster train to come to a complete stop. Bin looked over at Dongmin. His hair was wind-tousled and his nose was slightly red and he looked messy. Dongmin briefly wondered if he looked similar. It would be terrible if he did, for he had spent a while combing out his silky hair.

“Are you alright?” Dongmin asked, but then Bin threw his arms around Dongmin and kissed him.

Dongmin made a muffled noise of surprise and fell back a little bit. The train jolted forward to roll into the station, but still Bin kissed Dongmin.

And, by god, Bin was a good kisser.

Dongmin only drew back once the shade of the station hit them, and he smiled widely at Bin’s expression.

“If we keep kissing,” he chided, “then we’ll be stuck on this coaster again and again.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Bin replied, breathless. “I’d be stuck on this damn coaster again and again if it meant I never had to stop kissing you.”

And, by god, Bin was a good boyfriend.

* * *

Of course, becoming exclusive with Bin meant that Dongmin had opened up the gates of hell, and the devil himself, Kim Myungjun, had crawled forth from the depths in order to wreak havoc. Dongmin knew he should’ve expected it, especially with Jinwoo texting him, _You should expect the CEO of Idiocy to annoy you,_ but he had instead been focusing all of his thoughts on the perfection that was Moon Bin.

So he ignored all of Myungjun’s asinine texts. He ignored the calls and the repeated letters sent his way. He continued to bask in the glory that was his insanely hot boyfriend, and he continued to remain oblivious to Myungjun’s concerns.

It made sense, then, that Myungjun would fling open his bedroom door one morning, Jinwoo close behind him, and stand as menacingly as a small, delicate-looking man could.

Bin had jolted in fear; he spent the night for the first time, and they were taking the morning off simply to enjoy each other’s company. Underneath the sheets they only wore their underwear, and Dongmin realized how indecent all of this was.

Myungjun glared at the two of them, and Jinwoo offered Dongmin a smile and small wave.

“What the hell are you doing here, Myungjun?” Dongmin snapped, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“I thought this was going on,” Myungjun said, a complete non-response. “Jinwoo, write this down; our sweet and dear Minnie is engaging in sexual relations with none other than--”

“I don’t have a pencil or a pen,” Jinwoo interrupted him.

Myungjun sighed. “Minnie, do _you_ have a pencil?”

“I could write it in my phone,” Jinwoo murmured. “You know, in the notes program.”

“It just won’t have the same effect,” Myungjun responded.

Dongmin knew that the two of them would soon spiral into a ridiculous argument of sorts, and he saw it fit to shut things down before they had the chance to run amok. “Myungjun, get _out_! I didn’t invite you in here!”

Myungjun’s attention was drawn back to him, and Dongmin didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “You don’t have to invite me. You gave me the key for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Not for _this_ reason.”

“Get over it. We have to talk.”

“We _don’t_.”

Bin, staring between the two of them awkwardly and sensing the growing tension, asked, his voice low, “Is, um, is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dongmin assured him, not once taking his glare off of Myungjun. “I apparently just have an unwanted visitor.”

Myungjun stared back for a split second before he suddenly announced, “Lee Dongmin, I must speak with you.”

No one said anything at first, and then Bin whispered, “Who’s...Lee Dongmin?”

He was staring over at Dongmin; Dongmin could feel his piercing gaze, his questioning gaze. What more was there to say, though? If he tried to brush off the name, wouldn’t Bin become more suspicious? 

So, with a frustrated sigh, he climbed out of bed and reached for his pants, pulling them on over his underwear. 

But Myungjun was quick to say, “I think your boyfriend should hear our discussion, seeing as it pertains to him.”

“Not likely.”

“So you’ll just continue lying to him, then?”

Dongmin stiffened. Bin asked, “Lying? Eunwoo, what are you lying about?”

“It’s…” Dongmin refused to look at him. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Why did Myungjun have to come in _now_ and ruin things? Why was Myungjun acting like an insufferable asshole? “Look, Bin, I just...I’ll talk to Myungjun first, alright? And then I _promise_ the two of us can talk and I’ll explain things. But it’s nothing. Nothing’s going on, I swear it.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He _couldn’t_ wait for an answer. He knew he was acting suspicious and he knew Bin had every right to continue questioning him. Instead, he tossed on a shirt and slipped out of his bedroom after Myungjun and Jinwoo.

“What?” he hissed once his door was closed. “What on earth are you trying to do right now?”

“First off,” Myungjun murmured, unaffected by Dongmin’s anger, “I did not know your college boyfriend was over. Had I known, perhaps I would not have made my entrance so grand. Second off, I still do need to speak to you, because you know _this_ \--” Myungjun gestured at Dongmin’s bedroom door, “--this cannot go on.”

Dongmin glowered. “You aren’t in charge of me. You aren’t in control. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do or who I can and cannot see.”

“I suppose not, but I can inform you that it will end in tragedy, and I do not wish to see you suffer over a broken heart for a second time.”

It had been years and years ago. Dongmin had fallen in love with a human and it had inevitably ended poorly. He had died and Dongmin had wallowed in grief for a few years. Myungjun must have remembered such an event, and at any other time, Dongmin would be proud to have a friend who cared for him so dearly. 

But right now, when he had Bin just on the other side of the door, Dongmin refused to heed any sort of warnings.

“I can deal with it myself,” he snapped.

“You’re being impulsive, Dongmin.”

“What do you care?” Dongmin finally exploded, unable to take much more of Myungjun’s meddling. “You don’t even _like_ humans! You treat Jinwoo as subpar, like he’s beneath you or some shit, and you’ve done that to every single human you’ve ever met! You don’t understand how I feel! If my heart becomes broken later, then I will deal with it alone, alright? Just quit treating me like this!”

Myungjun met Dongmin’s stare with an icy, cold look Dongmin had yet to see. He didn’t respond to any of the accusations; he merely shrugged his shoulders slightly before looking away.

“I tried, didn’t I? Tell me I tried, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo looked rather uncomfortable with the argument, and he cleared his throat. “Sure. Should I go start the car, maybe?”

“We’ll both go. Once Dongmin’s done being an asshole, maybe I’ll return.” But before he left, Myungjun added, “If you truly like him this much, then maybe he deserves to know.”

Dongmin didn’t rise to the bait, and so Myungjun left without another word. His footsteps echoed down the hall, and Dongmin listened for the sound of his front door opening and closing before he finally let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in.

What now? It was very likely that Bin had been listening to all that was said. It wasn’t as if either of them had kept their voices down; Myungjun was naturally loud, and Dongmin definitely had raised his voice in order to match that. Bin, still cuddled away in bed, must have heard it all.

He had to face that. He had to face Bin’s newfound knowledge. He would have to explain it all away.

Or he could just tell the truth. 

He ran his hands through his messy hair and gave himself an extra minute of wallowing about in silence and self-pity. He deserved it, after all. This conversation was not going to be an easy one, and he needed to steel himself for what was to come.

Then, when he was ready, he entered the room again and nervously faced Bin’s accusatory gaze.

“So,” Bin murmured, “what the fuck is going on?”

* * *

He pulled documents from the far reaches of his library, from places that hadn’t seen light in over a decade. He showed off piles of evidence that proved his words to be true. He allowed Bin to rifle through old photos and old newspapers. Many things were filed away, things he wanted to keep but thought he would never again use. He wasn’t meant to show off proof of his immortality. Myungjun always informed him to keep it secret from those who could not be fully trusted. Dongmin truly didn’t know if Bin could be fully trusted. He hoped Bin would never tell another soul, but he wasn’t _sure_.

Bin, for his part, didn’t comment much on what he was shown. He would nod, or give hums of acknowledgement, or sometimes confirm that he understood whatever Dongmin told him. Otherwise, his expression remained one of guarded interest. Dongmin couldn’t even begin to guess what Bin thought of him, and when they had finally gone through the last folder of immortality evidence, they allowed silence to fall over them. Dongmin, seated in his office chair, stared over at the stack of papers and pictures. He was slumped over with exhaustion and found himself completely overwhelmed with his situation.

Perhaps he should have initially taken Myungjun’s advice. If he had never sent Bin a confession letter, then they wouldn’t have a relationship for him to ruin. He could continue to wallow about in lonely sadness for the rest of eternity and Bin would have likely found someone else, someone he could start a family with and grow old with. 

When all seemed absolutely hopeless and Dongmin was absolutely ready to jump off a cliff, Bin finally spoke.

“So you’re really immortal,” he murmured, not so much a question as a statement of fact.

Dongmin nodded his head slowly. “Yes,” he replied. “Unfortunately so.”

“How did you find out?”

He had never told the story to anyone except for Myungjun, so as he relayed the information to his boyfriend, he realized just how foreign the words felt on his tongue. Still, he continued forth, knowing that Bin deserved the truth.

“There was a sickness that spread throughout my town. I caught ill and suffered in agony for a few days. I died but I was not granted the peace of an afterlife. Instead, I only remember waking to an assortment of bewildered doctors and Myungjun. Myungjun was quick to cover for me and to spread some bullshit about my condition _not_ being a miracle rebirth. Once I was released, Myungjun then cared for me for a while. He taught me what I was and what the future would hold.”

Bin stared at the stack of evidence, of newspapers and pictures and writings. “And what _are_ you? You’re an immortal human?”

“Myungjun claims we’re immortal _beings_. Different from humans. I believe we’re far more similar to humans and only have a curse placed upon us.” Dongmin sighed and closed his eyes, unwilling to look further at Bin’s disappointment. 

“And it triggers after your death?” Bin asked. When Dongmin nodded, Bin sighed loudly. “This is...how the hell could you _not_ tell me this? I mean, it’s a big deal. It’s a _huge_ deal.”

“I don’t know what you would have me say.” Dongmin opened his eyes to meet Bin’s stare. “ _By the way, Bin, I’m immortal. Just thought you ought to be aware_. Would you have believed me? Would you be any less upset now if I had told you? You’d think me mad, and for good reason. It’s...it’s unbelievable. It’s ridiculous. It makes absolutely no sense.”

When Bin said nothing, Dongmin couldn’t help but continue, fueled by his decades of keeping such a secret all to himself. 

“It’s not anything I like being reminded of, either. There aren’t enough immortal beings in this world to bring me any comfort. Myungjun is my only friend because he’s the only other person who will live for as long as I will. He understands what it’s like, but even then...Bin, I just wanted to fall in love. I just...I wanted to live a normal life.”

He bowed his head, his anger slowly ebbing away and replaced instead with a deep sadness he knew he could never rid himself of. The pain had lingered in his chest since the moment Myungjun explained to him his future. It was to be a future of solitude, so Myungjun had claimed. It was to be a future he could never escape from. He would suffer. He would feel pain. He would know depression on a personal level.

And then, Myungjun had claimed with a wide grin, he would be above all others, and he would only come to recognize that with time.

Dongmin had yet to recognize his greatness. He simply felt miserable, and knowing how he had just single-handedly destroyed his relationship with Bin made him feel all the worse.

He ran a hand down his face, dragging his fingers across his skin.

Bin cleared his throat. “I’m…” He trailed off and shook his head, unable to convey a single thought.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Dongmin assured him, voice muffled as he spoke through his hand, still splayed across his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Can I just…” Bin glanced over at the documents and then suddenly stood. Dongmin looked up at him, a little surprised by the movement.

“Bin?” he implored.

“I just don’t get this!” Bin exclaimed, losing the calm that had overtaken him since the explanation had begun. “Immortal people don’t _exist_ . Immortality _doesn’t_ exist! I mean, I know I see you in all these pictures and your name appears in all of these papers, but I don’t...I don’t get how...I could kill you right now and you wouldn’t die, right? I could shoot you or stab you and you’d live, right?”

Dongmin didn’t like Bin’s tone, and he certainly didn’t like what appeared to be Bin’s intense anguish. Still, he nodded his head, knowing that Bin deserved truthful explanations.

“Trust me,” he murmured, “I’ve certainly tried to die. But nothing works.”

Bin stared down at Dongmin and pursed his lips. “You tried to kill yourself?”

“A life of immortality was never very welcome to me,” Dongmin admitted. “Better to end things if I could. Besides, it’s not like I instantly trusted what Myungjun had to say. He was some random man who whisked me away from my family. I didn’t believe any of his nonsense until my family grew old and I remained young. In desperation, I tied weights to my ankles and jumped into a lake. I suppose at that moment I had to believe Myungjun. I drowned over and over again until Myungjun found me.” Dongmin scoffed as he recalled the terrible event. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Myungjun so frantic and upset. He hit me and yelled at me. He even cried, though I was alive and well.”

“You couldn’t have been well,” Bin muttered, looking absolutely horrified at the casual candor with which Dongmin shared the story. “Eunwoo, that’s--”

“Dongmin,” Dongmin reminded him, a bit pathetically. “Remember, I lied to you.”

Bin’s jaw tightened, but only briefly, and he continued, “It must have been traumatic.”

“I suppose,” Dongmin conceded, “but as the years pass it becomes less so. I’d rather drown over and over again than live a life in misery.”

Bin sat back down again. He looked pensive, but thoughtful. “And...and you _did_ like me?” he asked, voice quiet.

Dongmin nodded his head. “I really did like you. I swear it. I would not have confessed otherwise. The last human I liked was...well, human. And he died and I was distraught.”

“Who was it?” Bin wondered.

“Hwang Hyeon.”

“Hwang…” Bin’s eyes widened. “Oh, god. You liked _him_ ? Is that how you know so much? Is that how come you don’t ever cite sources? You...you _knew_ him? You _liked_ him?”

Talking about his past loves with his current boyfriend would be troublesome, save for the fact his past loves were dead. “I loved Hwang Hyeon,” Dongmin confessed. “I never did tell him, though. At the time, I was newly immortal. Myungjun was my constant guide through my new life. He urged me to never express my deepest emotions, and so Hwang Hyeon remained only a friend. When he began to grow old, I could only watch from afar as he started a family and lived in happiness. It was...it hurt, knowing I could no longer even be his friend. I was a stranger to him, and he died never seeing me again. He had children and I had no one left. And with you...I had written love confessions before my death, before I became immortal, but you’ve been my first love in a very long time.”

He thought he could detect a slight blush on Bin’s face, but he wasn’t certain. He decided not to investigate, either, feeling as if he had lost the right to tease or joke with Bin.

“I’m sorry if this is overwhelming to you,” Dongmin apologized, bowing his head slightly. “And I’m sorry I never told you.”

Bin didn’t respond to Dongmin’s apologies. He sat still for another minute before he stood again and asked, “Is it alright if I go home?”

This would be it, then. Dongmin knew it would be. There was no reason for Bin to ever return to him, an immortal man from the 19th Century. Bin deserved better.

When Dongmin nodded his head, though, Bin said, “I’ll call you.”

“You’ll…” Dongmin glanced up at him, feeling a bit hopeful. “Why?”

“I just wanna think about...about what to do next,” Bin explained. “And...and then I’ll call you and we can go from there. I did...I _do_ like you, Eun--Dongmin. I really do. I just wanna...I need to process this, I think.”

Dongmin was certain his mouth was open in shock. He could do nothing much except croak out a small, “Of course,” and then he saw Bin off. 

There was a possibility Bin wanted to stay. There was a possibility their love would last for a while.

But in the end, Dongmin knew all that awaited them was heartbreak.

* * *

Though it was definitely Myungjun’s fault that Bin was now taking a break from their newly-found relationship, Dongmin couldn’t hate him much. After all, Bin _deserved_ to know, and Dongmin should have thought before jumping into a serious romantic endeavor. He had been stupid and foolish, and he was right to now be suffering the consequences.

“You’ve been alive for a very long time,” he told Myungjun one evening as they sat together, silently stewing over their own immortality. “Surely you’ve suffered similar to how I feel currently.”

Myungjun rolled his eyes. “I’m not idiotic enough to get involved with a human.”

“You _always_ get involved with humans,” Dongmin accused. “Sure, you’re simply using them and you ditch them after twenty years, but you’re still involved. Are you really saying you have no feelings for them?”

“I do not.”

“What about Jinwoo? I’ve never seen you get along with a servant as you do with Jinwoo. You _must_ be in love with him!”

“Why must I?” Myungjun asked, glancing over at Dongmin. “I don’t fall in love with my butlers and servants. Jinwoo sees other people; I sleep with other people. We don’t love each other. I’m incapable of loving a human.”

Dongmin didn’t know if he believed that. Perhaps it was possible Myungjun was telling the truth about his lack of feelings for Jinwoo, but it wasn’t possible that Myungjun had never loved a human in his life.

“Early on,” Dongmin started, “in the eleventh century, you were a new immortal being, right?” When Myungjun nodded his head, Dongmin asked, “Were you ever in love with a human?”

“Who can remember that far back?” Myungjun moaned.

“You can. You always do.”

“At least you pay attention.” Myungjun sighed and dipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Sure. I was in love before, once or twice. And then the man I fell for learned who I was and tried burning me alive in an attempt to kill me off. A terrible way to go, really. My condolences to all humans who have suffered a similar fate. But at least they died at the end, I suppose.”

Dongmin ran his fingers through his hair, a little surprised with Myungjun’s past. He never spoke much on it, preferring only to focus on his current life as a rich man with butlers, but much of Myungjun’s current outlook then made sense. If humans had tried to harm him, then he must view them as vile creatures. And if love had only ended in heartbreak, then he must have shunned such emotions.

Was Dongmin to do the same, then? Was he supposed to view humans as beneath him? Was he supposed to never again fall in love?

Jinwoo poked his head into the room, a sweet and lazy smile on his face. “Myungjun,” he greeted, “I got your grocery list ready and called up your personal shopper. Anything else, or can I hit the town now?”

“Nah. Hit the town,” Myungjun said, but then quickly snapped his fingers. “No, wait. We need your advice. Dongmin’s messed things up with Bin.”

“ _I’ve_ messed things up?” Dongmin grumbled.

Jinwoo stepped further into the room. “I have to agree with Dongmin,” he commented. “I think you messed things up more, Myungjun.”

“We aren’t here to point fingers and shift blame,” Myungjun scolded. “But, anyway, Bin hasn’t contacted Dongmin in a few days. What do you think Dongmin ought to do?”

After taking a seat, Jinwoo sighed, a thoughtful expression upon his face. “Bin’s upset. I mean, he just learned that you’re immortal, Dongmin. That’s bound to get anyone upset. And even if you’ve apologized, I think he’s probably still going to be upset.”

“How come _you_ weren’t upset?” Dongmin questioned, eyeing Jinwoo suspiciously. “How come you managed to take it all in stride? Why did it not upset you?”

“Because I’m not in love with Myungjun,” was the response. Jinwoo smiled and glanced over at Myungjun, who raised his eyebrows as he awaited further explanation. “When we met, he was my employer. And when I became privy to all of the information, I also became privy to the fact that he thinks humans are beneath him. It’s difficult to love someone who believes you to be slightly worthless.”

“Hey,” Myungjun interrupted, “I never said _slightly_ worthless.”

“He thinks I’m completely worthless,” Jinwoo said, and Dongmin wasn’t certain whether or not it was a joke. Still, Jinwoo remained smiling, and Myungjun looked rather satisfied, so Dongmin shrugged that off. “But with Bin, you shared a deeper connection. You viewed him as your equal, and he understood that. So when he learned you had an entire life hidden from him, it obviously hurt.”

Dongmin could understand that much, at least. He nodded his head and cleared his throat. The guilt of his actions threatened to overwhelm him, and he wished there was some way to fully apologize and to be fully forgiven.

It seemed Myungjun was not nearly as understanding, and he groaned. “That’s great and all, but what’s he supposed to _do_?”

“I’m getting to that. Learn to be patient,” Jinwoo chided lightly, and Myungjun seemed to accept the scolding with all the petulance of a child. Once Myungjun was dealt with, Jinwoo turned back to Dongmin and asked, “Did Bin tell you _he_ would contact _you_?”

Dongmin thought back to their last conversation, then nodded his head. “He said he would call. I haven’t...I haven’t gotten any messages.”

“I bet you just don’t know how to check,” Myungjun mumbled, but nobody seemed to pay him any mind.

“So you can either wait for a call that may or may not come,” Jinwoo mused, “or you can contact _him_ . Maybe drop off a letter or...or flowers. Something to let him know that he doesn’t _have_ to continue to date you, but that you’re still very sorry for not telling him about yourself earlier. I...I suppose you do still want to date him?”

“It’ll end poorly,” Myungjun interrupted, glaring at Jinwoo. “An immortal being and a human _cannot_ date. Trust me.”

Jinwoo regarded Myungjun curiously but didn’t respond. Instead, he simply asked again, “Dongmin, do you want to date him? Even if it might end poorly? Even if it _will_ end poorly?”

Dongmin swallowed thickly. Would he put himself through that heartbreak? Would he allow himself to get hurt for the sake of loving Bin? He thought of Hwang Hyeon, the man he’d loved before. He had never _tried_ with Hwang Hyeon. He had stayed away and kept his distance, and it still hurt, even decades later.

If he stayed away from Bin, it might hurt the same.

“I want to try, at least,” he replied. He ignored the look of exasperation Myungjun sent his way and focused only on Jinwoo’s encouraging smile.

“Then let’s plan what your next step should be,” Jinwoo urged. “Myungjun, gimme a raincheck on hitting the town. I’ve got more important plans.”

“I’m not paying you for this,” Myungjun snapped.

But Jinwoo didn’t seem to care, and Dongmin felt hope spring to his chest. Perhaps things would be alright.

At least for a little while, perhaps they would be alright.

* * *

He did have to wonder, though, if Jinwoo was perhaps a little overzealous. It was one thing to send a card or a text imploring for forgiveness. It was another thing to dress in his finest suit and hold a giant bouquet of flowers and knock on a small apartment door in the middle of a college town.

People kept staring over at him as they passed by. A group of girls giggled and snapped a few photos, and some boys nudged each other and openly stared. Jinwoo had told him that he looked magnificent and beautiful; in fact, Jinwoo had praised his appearance so much that Myungjun had finally forced Jinwoo out of the room in frustration and had brought Dongmin’s ego down a few notches by saying, “I’d fuck you, I guess.”

But would Bin think he looked nice? And would Bin accept the flowers? And would Bin ever forgive him for his misdeeds?

It didn’t hurt to try, at least. That’s what Jinwoo had made clear.

So Dongmin knocked on the door again, and he gripped tightly onto his flowers as he worried what Bin might do.

Finally, the door opened. Someone who _wasn’t_ Bin poked their head out and blinked owlishly at Dongmin.

This must be one of Bin’s roommates. Dongmin bowed slightly and introduced himself, “Hello, sir. I’m Lee Dongmin and I’m here to meet Moon Bin.”

The boy appraised him with a piercing gaze. He didn’t seem shocked to see Dongmin standing there; then again, he hardly had much expression to his face at all. Perhaps he was one of those androids that Myungjun always talked excitedly about. Were androids even real, though? And, if they were, did the general public own androids? Dongmin’s knowledge of technology was far from current and up-to-date.

But then the boy called out, “Bin, you got a secret admirer at the door!”

His accent was strong. He definitely wasn’t from the city as Bin was. Southern Korea, perhaps? 

Before Dongmin could ponder more the existence of this roommate-android, Bin came rushing from another room. He, too, blinked at Dongmin, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Uh,” Bin said, and Dongmin bowed once more.

“Good morning, Bin. I, um...I brought flowers.”

“I see.”

Dongmin could have kicked himself. He was usually far more eloquent than that, but with the roommate-android staring at him, he found it difficult to even breathe. How did Bin live under such an oppressive glare from a roommate-android? Bin must truly be blessed with great mental fortitude.

“May I come in?” Dongmin asked, hopeful he didn’t _look_ as flustered as he felt.

Bin nodded his head, then pushed the roommate-android aside. “Go hang out with Sanha,” Bin hissed to the roommate-android.

“Why? So you can make out with Prince Charming?” The roommate-android made no effort at all to lower his voice.

“I’ll kill you,” Bin threatened.

The roommate-android scoffed. “Ooh, I’m so scared. You can’t even wear a face mask. You can’t beat me in a physical fight.” The roommate-android glanced once more at Dongmin before declaring, “I’m gonna hang out with Sanha because I _want_ to.”

“Sure. Do that,” Bin muttered, and he pulled Dongmin inside the apartment. Dongmin stumbled, but was quick to take off his shoes, and by the time he looked up again, the roommate-android was gone.

“Sorry about him,” Bin apologized as another door in the apartment closed -- ah, yes, Bin had _two_ roommates. They must now be together. “Minhyuk can be a bit of a douche, I guess.”

“He’s not an android, then?” Dongmin implored. “Simply a difficult boy?”

“What? An android?”

“Nothing.” Dongmin shook his head, then remembered the flowers he was still holding onto. He shoved his hand out, thrusting the flowers under Bin’s nose, and said, “I, um, I decided to bring flowers. Just as a show of...of apology. I’m...I was so stupid not to tell you who I was sooner, and I’m sorry.”

Bin didn’t take the flowers at first. He surveyed them, then offered Dongmin a small smile. “I’m not really the sort of guy who keeps flower bouquets laying around,” he admitted.

Ah, shit. Dongmin felt terribly embarrassed. “O-Oh,” he stammered. “I apologize about this, too, then. I thought...I mean, I was told this was a good apology, and...I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you must want something else. I can get you chocolate. That’s something lovers give-- not that we’re lovers, per se, or that...I mean, I just…”

“Look,” Bin mumbled, “I, um...I don’t need anything. I’m sorry I haven’t called like I said I would. I’ve just been thinking a lot about...about you. About _us_.”

He paused and Dongmin could think of nothing more intelligent to say than, “I see.”

He ought to revoke his self-proclaimed King of Elegance card. He was useless.

Bin continued, “I was mad at first. I mean, you were just...you’re living this weird life. You lied to me about who you actually are. But then I realized that...I wouldn’t have believed you if you had told me initially. I would’ve laughed you out the door. Or, if I did believe you, I wouldn’t have wanted to pursue a relationship. What’s the point in loving someone who will outlive you by thousands of years? So maybe it was a good thing you kept quiet about it until I was...well, until I was head over heels. I would’ve kept quiet, too.”

Dongmin didn’t know where the conversation was going. He wished Bin would take the flowers from his hand, because he was squeezing them so tight that he was certain the stems would snap.

But Bin didn’t take the flowers. Bin seemed fueled by endless thoughts and poured forth his feelings, burdening Dongmin with more than just pretty bouquets.

“So I can’t blame you for keeping this a secret. And I can’t blame you for wanting to live a normal life despite your immortality. I think you had very good reasons to do what you did, and it’s not my place to criticize those reasons. I just...I want to know, though, what...what are _we_ going to do?”

Dongmin wasn’t sure what the question meant, nor was he certain how he ought to answer. He blinked uselessly, and so Bin struggled to explain himself.

“How can we continue a relationship when I’ll...I’ll die and you _won’t_? Is it fair for either of us to even try if it’ll hurt too bad in the end?”

“I’ll hurt regardless,” Dongmin admitted, his words coming out in a rush. “I’ve been alone for years and years and years. The man I loved died without ever knowing my love. He died without me even _trying_ to make things work. And I know it’s likely to end in heartbreak, but doesn’t _all_ love end in heartbreak? All couples die someday.”

Bin frowned. “But _you_ won’t die. You’ll have to go on living without me.”

“I can cross that bridge when I get to it,” Dongmin breathed, hardly daring to hope that Bin might wish to continue their relationship. “For now, though, I’d...I’d very much like to date you.”

Bin glanced over at the flowers and took a deep breath. He was pensive, thoughtful, and Dongmin didn’t dare move until he was given an answer.

“Let’s try it, then,” Bin finally responded. “I really like you and I don’t think I’m willing to give you up that easily, immortal or not. Besides, you brought me such pretty flowers, so how can--”

He didn’t get a chance to finish that statement, for Dongmin rushed at him and gathered him in a tight hug. The flowers were crushed, but flowers be damned! All Dongmin wanted, all he _needed_ , was Bin’s acceptance and love.

“I’ll make this work,” he whispered into Bin’s ear, feeling quite breathless. “I swear to you, our love won’t end in tragedy.”

Bin pulled back from the hug briefly, just long enough to kiss Dongmin. His kiss was sweet and Dongmin’s heart exploded within his chest as Bin embraced him again.

“Even if it does,” Bin murmured, “I think I’ll stay by your side.”

* * *

And so continued his immortality. It was a little easier to handle with Bin, however. Bin adapted rather quickly and easily to Dongmin’s life. They often went on dates and Dongmin helped him work on his paper. On occasion the topic of an eternal life would be brought up, but Bin had started to see Dongmin’s dilemma as _interesting_ rather than upsetting.

“At least you won’t ever get wrinkles,” Bin always joked.

“I believe I’d rather get wrinkles,” Dongmin would always respond, but Bin would laugh and explain how weird he might look with wrinkles. Dongmin supposed that was true; he had been youthful since the 19th century and a sudden change would alter his physical appearance drastically.

“Is it weird,” Dongmin asked one night, laying in Bin’s rather small bed, “that you’re dating someone who is...much older than you?”

“I’ve always liked older men,” Bin admitted.

Dongmin scoffed and rolled his eyes as Bin giggled. Bin’s laughter was an awfully infectious sound and so Dongmin found himself laughing along after a few seconds of exasperation.

“But seriously,” Bin murmured once he calmed down, “you might have lived for a couple hundred years, but that’s just your brain. That just means you’re super intelligent.”

“You’re a smooth talker,” Dongmin replied.

Bin gave a small hum in acknowledgement and then curled all the more into Dongmin’s side. They were basically combined at this point, and Dongmin was certain they could not ever be ripped apart.

Or, rather, he was certain, until there came a knock at Bin’s bedroom door.

Bin sighed and lifted his head from Dongmin’s chest to call out, “I’m a little busy!”

“I’ll close my eyes,” was his response, and Bin rolled his eyes. Dongmin recognized the voice to be Sanha’s, Bin’s youngest (and tallest) roommate. Dongmin quite liked Sanha. He had the energy of Myungjun without being obnoxious and crass and gross. He seemed rather sweet when he wasn’t deviously scheming, and he broke through Minhyuk’s android-roommate persona with ease.

But at the moment, Dongmin would rather not see him, for he had been enjoying his time with Bin.

Before Bin could tell Sanha off, though, the door opened. True to his word, Sanha had a hand plastered over his eyes in an effort not to view anything that might be potentially unsavory.

“Minhyuk said that you had my mouse,” Sanha complained.

“Mouse?” Dongmin whispered. He had not known Bin to keep rodents; he had also not known Bin to steal rodents from his roommates.

“He means a gaming mouse,” Bin explained, as if recognizing where Dongmin’s confused mind had taken him. “And Minhyuk is an absolute _liar_. Why would I take your mouse, Sanha?”

Sanha peeked through his eyes and when he saw that all was well, he let his hand drop. “Hey. You two _aren’t_ doing it. I thought you were.”

Dongmin cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, not sure how he ought to reply to that statement.

Bin seemed to know just what to do. “Get out and go yell at Minhyuk, ‘cause he’s the one who stole your mouse.”

Sanha narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t even have a computer,” he pointed out. “He uses his phone for everything. But _you_ have a computer and _you_ like gaming.”

Dongmin remembered Bin showing him some of the games on his computer. He seemed to have a lot of games, and he was definitely using a computer mouse during the demonstration.

“Is it…” Dongmin began, trying to remember what the mouse looked like. Sanha’s head swiveled to him. “Is it small-ish and black with lights on the side?”

“Yeah!” Sanha exclaimed. “You’ve seen it? Does Bin have it? Is he lying?”

Bin shot Dongmin a look. It was a quick glance, but even then, Dongmin could clearly detect the underlying message there. _Don’t you dare tell him that I’ve stolen your mouse, if you lie to this kid then I’ll make it all worth your while_.

Or, at least, that was what Dongmin heard in his mind, so he was quick to answer, “I believe I saw Minhyuk taking it from your computer. He told me not to tell you, but I suppose I must so you do not put the blame on my lovely and truthful boyfriend.”

Sanha groaned and spun around, exclaiming, “Minhyuk! I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me where it is!”

He slammed the door on his way out, and Dongmin winced.

Bin snorted and returned to cuddling Dongmin, wrapping his arms around his body and nuzzling into his clothed chest. 

“You’re seriously the best boyfriend ever. I always want a boyfriend who will lie for me. Speaking of, you’re definitely a brilliant liar. You could’ve fooled _me_ with your earnestness.”

“Years and years of practice,” Dongmin answered, smiling widely as he planted a kiss onto Bin’s forehead. “Though I believe now that Sanha is outright accusing Minhyuk, then we might have another guest.”

Sure enough, seconds later, Minhyuk flung open Bin’s door and pointed an accusatory finger at Dongmin.

“Don’t lie about me!” he fussed. “Sanha’s gullible and believes anything!”

“Hey!” Sanha exclaimed, popping up behind Minhyuk. “I’m not gullible!”

As Bin quickly fell into an argument with his roommates, Dongmin merely watched, working on hiding his ever-growing grin.

Life felt _normal_ , and he never wanted things to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its got a slightly ambiguous ending, but in the original plans, bin is also immortal and he and dongmin live an immortal life happily ever after. so if u want that ending, just imagine it ;D otherwise, it's up for debate.
> 
> HUGE shoutout to [nagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz) for helping me out so much with this fic and giving me this idea and editing and betaing and just for being wonderful and lovely always!
> 
> hit me up on my twitter page [@vonseal](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) for spoilers and general nonsense and even more (stupidly belated) birthday fics.

**Author's Note:**

> ITS NOT OVER. im so sorry my dear Sunflower. the fic was running long and i didn't want to rush it, so you will have to await the ending! most of it IS done, though, and i should have the rest completed either tomorrow or sunday. please wait a bit longer <3
> 
> hit me up on my twitter page [@vonseal](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) for spoilers and general nonsense and even more (stupidly belated) birthday fics.


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